


Don't Touch Me

by championofnone



Series: tumblr prompts [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championofnone/pseuds/championofnone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They should've noticed Hawke had gone missing sooner. As it was, they were almost too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Touch Me

**Author's Note:**

> A request from tumblr, prompt: "don't fucking touch me."

“Don’t  **fucking** touch me!”

Fenris recoiled, his hand all but flying from Hawke’s shoulder; even Varric jumped at the hostility in the mage’s voice. “Hawke, we just want to help you,” Varric explained slowly, hands raised to try and prove he wasn’t about to touch Hawke. “We got here as fast as we could.” 

Hawke snorted, spitting out another mouthful of blood. “Fat lot of good it did me.”

Fenris’s heart sank. They should’ve known. Everyone had thought it odd that Hawke hadn’t shown up at the Hanged Man for two days straight, and it took those two days for Orana to find Fenris and ask him to look for the Champion; the girl was worried sick. Aveline mounted a search party within the guard, and Fenris led Varric and Anders out to the Wounded Coast. He followed his gut, and they found Hawke nearly dead, caught by a band of templar defectors who didn’t tolerate a mage as the Champion of Kirkwall.

He made sure they didn’t die peacefully. 

But right now, Hawke would let no one touch him, and only tolerated Varric near him long enough to unlock the shackles around his wrists that kept him chained to the wall. Anders was still destroying the pit the templars had built next to Hawke, a tray covered in metal devices he didn’t want to think about next to that.

“Hawke, you need to let me heal you,” the other mage said, voice softer than Fenris had ever heard it. “Nothing will heal otherwise.”

“Fuck you,” Hawke spat, amber eyes burning with anger. “I said don’t fucking touch me.”

“Hawke,” his voice was more stern now, as if he were talking to a reluctant child, “they used magebane. That won’t heal unless I draw it out and you know that. Let me help you, please. I promise I won’t have to actually touch you.”

A moment passed before Hawke relaxed ever so slightly. True to his word, Anders kept his hands just above Hawke’s skin as he passed over the man’s wounds, skin slowly knitting back together. Hawke didn’t make a sound; very unusual for a man that whined like he was dying every time he stubbed his toe. 

Fenris felt like guilt was about to swallow him whole. His lover, and he did not try to hunt Hawke down after the first day passed with his absence. Hawke would have looked for him, would have torn the city down to find him, and Fenris sat and played Wicked Grace while templars inflicted Maker knows what horrors on the mage - on his mage. 

He wished he could bring them back just to kill them all over again. 

Anders finally sat back on his heels, face pinched tight. “That’s the best I can do, Hawke. You’re going to need to stay down for a while.”

“Like hell I am.”

“You’re in shock, Hawke. You’re not feeling the pain right now, but believe me, you will be soon.” He stood, and moved away after grabbing the tray of metal to dispose of it. Varric sat next to a quiet Hawke, telling him some story of Isabela’s to try and distract him. Fenris couldn’t stop his curiosity, and followed Anders to the flames. 

“What are those?”

Anders looked up at him as he stoked the fire a little more. “I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t know. Tevinter wouldn’t have these.” He held up a toothed prong first. “Takes out a tongue. Harder to cast spells if you can’t speak.” The next, a syringe. “Magebane residue in here. I’d guess all the cuts Hawke has are from blades coated in the poison.” The last one was a steel rod, a small sunburst made of iron on the tip. It was warm to the touch, Fenris could see that without needing to touch it. “You’ve seen this one before.”

“They…would’ve made him tranquil?” He could not keep the disgust out of his voice.

“After what they’ve probably done to him, tranquility would have been mercy.”

He couldn’t reply, stomach rolling at the thought of losing Hawke, permanently this time. He made his way back over to Hawke and Varric as Anders melted down the instruments, and sat as close to Hawke as the mage would allow.

“I should’ve come looking sooner,” he said, voice wavering just a little. “I did not, and apologizing is not enough.”

Hawke shrugged as much as he could. “Not like anyone knew, bastards got me in the middle of the night.”

“It will not happen again, Hawke, I swear it.” He finally looked up at Hawke, who tried smiling at him, but couldn’t hold it. “I will die before someone harms you again.”

“I won’t let you die for me, Fenris.” They both noticed Varric had left to help Anders; Fenris was grateful for the small bit of privacy it afforded them. “It happened. I just…won’t be okay for a while, that’s all.”

Fenris’s fingers twitched; he ached to touch Hawke in some way, but he understood. He knew what being a wounded animal felt like, and he was not willing to make Hawke feel that way any more than he already did. “I can be that for you, Hawke.”

“I know, Fenris,” he smiled. It was a long way from okay, but it was something. “I know.”


End file.
